


Look to the Skies

by PhoenixDragon



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 01:10:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21066287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixDragon/pseuds/PhoenixDragon
Summary: No matter the face, the personality, the fashion of his clothing (or lack thereof), he always, always found himself looking up when he emerged from the TARDIS doors.





	Look to the Skies

It was a habit he was unaware of. 

No matter the face, the personality, the fashion of his clothing (or lack thereof), he always, always found himself looking up when he emerged from the TARDIS doors. Alone, with companions piling out ahead of him - or plowing into him as they raced out to see what new adventure awaited them – his eyes were drawn to what may be above. 

Sometimes it was a mere glance, a quick flick and dart, then away again. Sometimes he found himself looking too long – and generally had to be jostled out of his reverie. He never really noticed this habit, nor thought long about it should it enter his mind.

That was, until Amy commented on it. 

His Amy. Always fierce, filled with fight, curiosity, passion and questions. And far more observant than she should be, really. Not that he’d have her any other way; but there were times when she made him think, even when some things were best left un-pondered. 

“What are you searching for, Spaceman?” 

Said with a smile. Offhand, jocular and – one might be fooled into thinking – uncaring of the answer. But it was the way her eyes did not leave his, the pause in her step. The way she kept her voice low, in case the answer was one that Rory should not be privy to. 

His best friend. His family. Both of them really.

It was in deference to this that he truly thought his answer through, the reply just loud enough in case Rory wanted to know as well. He owed them a lot. More than he could ever repay – an honest answer once in a while was hardly putting him out.

His response was not as measured as he’d like. Nor as well thought out – but it felt right. It felt **truthful**. 

“Gallifrey.”

He almost wished he hadn’t said anything, as Rory looked gut-punched – Amy’s mouth drawing into a sorrowful frown. He tried to smile, let them know it was okay. 

Gallifrey was long gone, but the ache he had for that planet had eased within him. There were times when the only fondness he harbored for that wretched rock was the sherbet hue of the sky, the rich maroon of the grass and the tinkling silver of the leaves in summer. It was not a good thing when that was the best memory you had of the place you were born to – but when that was all you had left, it really wasn’t so bad after all.

And it wasn’t as if this was a _new_ habit. It half startled him to realize that this was what he had always done. The millions of times he had left the door of his amazing Machine, his eyes were being drawn to the skies above. 

Purple skies, green skies, skies of the deepest blue or the coppery skies of amber. None were that rich, royal orange of home – and more often than not, that in itself was a relief rather than a burden.

“Doctor…” Rory said, the careful caution of his name indicating the man was formulating a way to apologize and offer an opening dialogue. Amy shifted closer to her husband, though her fingers reached out to tug on his tweeds, her silence a show of support, a way for her open the path for Rory to speak their thoughts on his pronouncement. 

He truly loved his Ponds. Amazing people, the two of them. They had taught him much – but they did not yet realize that Gallifrey, the place of his birth – was not his planet. It never had been. 

Lungbarrow was not his home. It had never been his home. 

His home was with his companions. Those he loved. His home was the TARDIS. His second home was Earth, as messy and complicated as it could be.

He wrapped them in a warm embrace and relished the startled laugh from Amy and the half-protest from Rory. He didn’t have to explain, they just knew, as his Ponds always had. That was why they were such a part of what made home ‘Home’ for him.

“It’s just habit.” Another truth. 

“Tell us about it?” Amy asked, half bold and half hesitant, still unsure he was not blowing off Something Important. He smiled and they both visibly relaxed, which hurt his hearts, but only made him love them that much more. 

So he did tell them. 

He told them of when he first stepped foot on another planet – how the sky was pitch-black and almost terrifying; infinity stretching before him, dotted with millions and millions of other stars, which all had skies so unlike the one he was used to. 

How he would find himself looking (almost in defiance of that first frightening experience), coming to delight in the hues, the staggering differences – and the wonders that may fly overhead. How the stars in the night sky became a comfort and the varying suns in the daytime an alien joy.

Then he told them of his own sky – the moons rising against the dusky orange of the evening, the blazing daylight of the binary suns – as though the horizon had caught fire every dawn, dying to embers when the afternoons stretched into the twilight. How that light caught against the crystal majesty of the Citadel, a glistening jewel amongst the harsh landscape.

How he missed it and how he did not. How that sky meant home and horror and misery and stagnation. How it was the only sky in all the worlds, in all the galaxies that looked like that.

When he finally stopped speaking, the sky they were currently under had gone from a green-grey to a teal color. Daylight was breaking – and with the coming of dawn, he felt…better. The Ponds were leaning against him, pillars of solidarity and a warm reminder of how far he had come over the years. 

After all, he had spent more time out in the universe, living among the stars and skies of so very many places, than he had decaying under that ginger-hued firmament of his birth planet. A testament to curiosity – and the grace of his friends and companions. 

“It is so pretty,” Amy said, her eyes drinking in the blueish-green swirl of colors coming to life above them. “I’d never really noticed.”

Rory nodded, squinting slightly as he tilted his head back on his wife’s shoulder, half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I could never _not_ notice.” Said with a grin, but ringing with more honesty than he had truly intended. “But enough with the sky-gazing. Reminds me too much of navel-gazing really. Both can be too time-consuming and lead to…speculation. Why have that when you can go poke something interesting with a stick?”

The Ponds grumbled a bit as they stood, but were soon happily trotting after him, the adventure ahead crowding out the revelations from the early morning. Above them the sky was tranquil and calm, a bit of a nip in the air to let them know it was the turning of the planet’s season.

The next sky would be different. As would the next one. And the one after that. The only major change to the habit was that there were three to look up to the heavens, scanning for the ginger hue that he had spoken of. Sometimes a glance. Sometimes longer than a glance. 

But for a little while, he would have someone to look with him. To know what it meant and what it didn’t mean. His Ponds.

No matter the color of the sky, the dreariness of the weather, the starkness of the moment – with them (and his Old Girl), he was always Home.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **who_contest**'s prompt: _Skies_. Okay, I will have to admit, it surprised me that it has been two years and a month since I had written anything for Who Contest. Actually it was the last time I had written anything for _anything_ to tell the truth (aside from a weird scribbling of words hardly worth mentioning from a few months ago). This was an idea that came over me slowly - but one I grabbed as though it was a lifeline. Unlike all the other times I have had 'ideas' in the last two years, this one gave me Words (not in the way I was used to years ago, but Words all the same). I will have (hopefully) other, more gratifying words in the future, as I am afraid this piece may be rather lackluster and halting - but I am wanting to put more Words to paper and as the saying goes '_one has to started somewhere_'. So this is where I shall plant that flag. I do apologize for the unoriginal, vague story. I do hope that I will get better as time goes on and my Musie gets braver. I can only wish to have done my characters justice, as it has been a long, long while since we have talked. As always, this fic is mostly unbeta'd and written in one go, so please forgive any mistakes and/or blatant awful. I also ask forgiveness for any repetition, misspellings, sentence fails, grammatical oh-noes and general 'whut?'. Unbeta'd fic is overly-thinky/wandery/blithery and unbeta'd.


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